Page 24

Who are you, Scarlett? Who is this woman you’ve become? Have you at last accepted this to be reality? What happened to the zeal and determination to find a way out of this hellhole?

These were the questions that plagued my mind day and night, occupying my thoughts and keeping me busy.

I wasn’t sure what to think about this or how to react to the gradual changes I saw in myself. Lately, it was almost like I couldn’t recognize the woman in the mirror each time I caught a reflection of myself in one.

Daniel was living rent-free in my head, thoughts of him invading my mind every second of the day. The man didn’t just get under my skin; he’d successfully gotten under my skirt, too—multiple times—and now I wanted him and him alone. Daniel had crept his way into my head and invaded my dreams, and now I was afraid he was going for my heart.

I hadn’t found a name for the feeling he’d stirred up within me—or maybe I had, but I was too afraid to face the truth. Everything had happened so fast, and now I found myself stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Whatever I felt for him wasn’t real. It was just a mirage. At least that was what I kept telling myself, even though, down in my heart, I knew that wasn’t true. This feeling terrified me, especially because my body craved him, longed for him. I hated the fact that I’d grown so used to his touch—addicted, maybe.

Daniel had shown me several versions of himself, and none of them was gentle—not in the ideal way, anyway. The other day, I watched him take down a man twice his size without breaking a sweat. I saw him violent, manifesting the beast within. All of these should have been enough to scare the living daylights out of me. But instead, his violent nature, his darkness, seemed to call out to me, drawing me in like a seductive allure.

I was trapped in a web of lust, passion, and something I wasn’t ready to admit yet. It was a bondage that I couldn’t break out of; I didn’t even want to. I was losing myself, sinking into him in ways that I had sworn I never would. The fact I was powerless against this feeling was both unsettling and intriguing at the same time.

Daniel’s actions—his touch—had ignited a fire within me, and now it wouldn’t stop burning. How could something so wrong feel so right, something so bad feel so good? This was the same man responsible for my father being in prison. I should hate him, despise him. But each time I looked at him, each time he touched me, the outcome was often the exact opposite.

Every day, this strange feeling I’d developed for him seemed to wax stronger, leaving me utterly helpless. I was growing more and more attached to him, and no matter how much I tried to fight the feeling, I would always lose.

Daniel had me hooked—so hooked, in fact, that I couldn’t help throwing myself at him the last time I saw him fight. Seeing all that he went through in the ring, I felt the need to help him relax—to ease his stress. That moment in the tub was the most intimate I’d ever shared with any man, and it would linger on the fringes of my mind for a very long time.

The taste of his lips still remained on mine, a subtle reminder of the hours we spent in that tub, just kissing and caressing each other’s bodies. The fleeting moment we shared that cool evening left a lasting imprint on my heart. It revealed one thing to me: that our connection went far beyond physical attraction and mere lust. It was something a lot more profound than that. As meaningful as it was, it was still a complex puzzle that neither of us had solved. The feeling was strange and undefined, unnamed.

These thoughts tugged at my mind, threatening to rip it apart, as I lay on the couch in the living room, confused. The opulent setting was warm, the gentle crackle of the fireplace filling the air as I lay on my back, staring blankly into space. It felt like the walls were starting to suffocate me, and I just needed some fresh air. Without a second thought, I sprang to my feet, footsteps padding on the fine marble floor while making my way toward the garden.

The scent of blooming flowers invaded my senses, the sunlight filtering through the tree leaves as I strolled through the perfectly manicured garden. I paused under an oak tree, drawing a deep, long breath, feeling the gentle breeze on my face. Fingers combed through my hair as I turned toward my usual spot, my gaze settling on the weathered bench.

But just as I was about to take a step further, I heard it: an underlying voice beneath the gentle wind and the chirping of birds. It sounded like Ilya’s, Daniel’s right-hand man, and it appeared that he was on the phone with someone. Whatever they were discussing wasn’t any concern of mine, and I should go on and mind my business.

However, I couldn’t help but wonder why he had to come all the way out here to make a phone call. Well, he probably was dealing with a personal situation. But wait, why was he whispering? For all he knew, he was alone out here, so why lower his voice? I didn’t need to be a psychologist to sense something fishy.

I stood there under the oak tree, contemplating whether to eavesdrop on Ilya’s conversation or just go on my way. However, something kept pulling me in Ilya’s direction. It wasn’t just my curiosity getting the better of me; it was more than that.

I braced myself and summoned the courage to draw closer, paying rapt attention so I could catch a few words from his lips. I stuck my head from behind the tree, and there he was, his back to me and the phone over his ear.

“Yes, yes,” he whispered, nodding his head, a hand in his pocket. “Everything’s going according to plan. Daniel doesn’t suspect a thing.”

My eyes narrowed, and suspicion settled on my gaze as I wondered what he meant by that. What plan was he talking about, and what didn’t Daniel suspect?

“You have my word. Daniel Tarasov will be dead by morning, and I’ll have your bride returned to you,” he said, his tone dripping with venom and disdain.

My eyes widened in shock, my heart hammering in my chest as my hand flew to my mouth, sealing my gasp. His words and the hatred in his voice cut deep like a knife, especially knowing that he was supposed to be Daniel’s most trusted man. My chest was heaving rapidly, my mind thinking of a million and one things at once.

Who was Ilya talking to? At first, I thought it was my dad, considering that I was somehow the center of the conversation. But then, Ilya had said, “...I’ll have your bride returned to you,” which only meant that Liam was the man on the other end.

I smoothed my hair backward, goosebumps crawling over my skin as I withdrew from the tree with quaking knees. If Liam was working with Ilya, then that would explain how Liam’s letter got through to me. He’d used Ilya as his inside man.

Daniel had no idea that he’d been betrayed by the one person he trusted the most. He had no idea that they were planning to murder him by tomorrow.

Shit! This was terrible, and now I wasn’t sure what to do. My first instinct was to run, but where would I go? I still hadn’t found a way out of here; besides, Daniel’s life was in danger. Could I really live with myself if anything happened to him?

My feet seemed to move of their own accord as I backed away, still processing what I’d just heard.

“Hey,” a familiar voice spoke behind me.

I yelped, almost jumping out of my skin as I turned around to face him, a hand on my heaving chest.

Daniel’s eyes squinted, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked, drawing closer, studying the fear on my face.

I clenched my jaw, my heart pounding like a drum. Should I tell him? Should I just lie about it? Would he even believe me, considering how long he’d known Ilya for?

“Scarlett?” he called, his eyes boring into mine, his voice stern and suspicious.

Keeping this to myself would make me just as guilty if anything bad happened to him. It didn’t matter whether he’d believe me or not. I had to at least try and save his life.

I swallowed hard, lips trembling. “I need to talk to you. Alone,” I said, my voice dripping with solemnity.

He stared at me, as if trying to read my countenance, but one thing was certain: He felt the weight of my words and the urgency of my tone.